


Adequate

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Enterprise, M/M, POV Kirk, POV Spock, Pining Kirk, Pining Spock, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Short & Sweet, T'hy'la, real sappy, uhura being no1 best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 17:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10168178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: If his mother were there, she would tell him he was in love. He would agree. Then his mother would tell him to act on his feelings and he’d refuse her that, because there was nothing to suggest Jim would reciprocate. To risk their friendship would be the most unforgivable thing Spock could imagine.Spock observes and learns, and believes that is all he can do. Of course the one time he slips up with his emotions, Jim is observing too. The incessant tension since the Khan incident is then dealt with.





	

S P O C K

Spock found that he observed his Captain most of the time. Without meaning to, he found himself watching Jim whenever his eyes had the opportunity to stray, and he always had to make a conscious effort to direct his attentions elsewhere. This was the professional way to act; it would not do to have him so blatantly distracted- particularly on shift. He had no right to be distracted at all, and admitting to himself that he was had been an uncomfortable process. He was a Vulcan. He was supposed to be a master of emotion and concentration. Jim weakened him, in a way, and strengthened him in so many others. In the interest of fairness, Spock hadn’t necessarily learned nothing from his idle observations of Jim. He had, in fact,learned a great deal about his friend that he found only encouraged his affections for the man. His concern, also.

For example, Jim sometimes forgot to breathe. When he was concentrating, most particularly. Reading, often. Then, a few seconds after he’d stopped, he remembered. He would breathe forcefully and silently, staring out at nothing until he caught his breath again. There was always an unnatural blankness on his face then, but his eyes spoke volumes. Spock was almost certain that, in those moments, Jim was trying not to remember his death. Spock sympathised, as he spent a great deal of his own concentration on trying not to remember Jim’s death also. When Jim had calmed himself, unnoticed by all, he would make some cheery quip to Chekov or Uhura to feign off any possible observers. If he was having a particular tricky time calming himself, he’d call Spock over to explain something from a report that Spock had no doubt he did not already understand. If calming was impossible, he would excuse himself off the bridge. To see Doctor McCoy, Spock knew.

There were other things that Spock had observed too. How Jim held his stylus, how long he could concentrate for at any given time of day, the little restless motions his hands made when tensions were high on the bridge. Jim was an endless array of mannerisms that Spock would observe ceaselessly if he could, and he was painfully aware of how pointless that would be. How illogical and unproductive. If his mother were there, she would tell him he was in love. He would agree. Then his mother would tell him to act on his feelings and he’d refuse her that, because there was nothing to suggest Jim would reciprocate. To risk their friendship would be the most unforgivable thing Spock could imagine. This, coming from he who had been unable to protect his planet and mother. He hadn't even been able to protect Jim.

Spock flinched without any sort of warning or permission, and he stared at his own hands, betrayed.

“Spock? You okay?” He looked briefly to Uhura, appalled that she’d witnessed his sudden lapse in control. His friend only looked concerned for him, but he had no explanation to present her with.

“Affirmative.” He replied quietly, aware of the staggering silence on the Bridge. He looked over his shoulder to the Captain’s chair, where Jim was trying very hard not to appear like he wanted to listen to their hushed conversation. “May I speak with you later, Nyota?”

“Of course.” She smiled at him softly and turned back to her station, clearly not content, but reassured that he was in no immediate danger. Uhura was like that as a friend, practical and patient where Jim was rash and demanding. Spock could not say he valued either approach above the other, even if Jim’s was considerably more emotional.

He turned back to his work and continued on, as though his mind wandering had never occurred. Of course, he’d been doing that for as long as he’d known Jim, and his control was only deteriorating with time. Since _the incident_ , the pace of his decline had only increased. He calculated that within another two months aboard the Enterprise, he would no longer function at a performance excusable for the ship he served on. If he could not come to terms with his emotions before then, he would need to resign or request transfer.

He'd never been very good at coming to terms with his emotions. Too human to fully suppress them, too Vulcan to fully embrace them. If his mother were there, she’d tell him he didn’t have to be good. He just needed to be self-aware enough to know when to ask for help. This, he might not be able to deny his mother. She had always known when he needed help. Others were not so intuitive. He would have to go to them, should he need help. Logic dictated that if he wanted to remain on the Enterprise, and close to Jim, he would have to ask at some point. Uhura seemed like the wisest place to start.

“Commander Spock, a moment?”

Spock moved swiftly to the Captain’s chair, expecting to explain a facet of some report that Jim was feigning ignorance to. Instead, his PADD was dark on his chair, and Jim was stood up, not looking troubled in the slightest. Instead, his face had adopted an acute concern. Piercing blue eyes looked through Spock, or that’s what he was afraid of in any case.

“Are you okay?” The Captain asked him quietly. Spock decided that there was only an approximate 35 percent chance that Chekov or Sulu could hear them, and only a 17.32 percent chance that they were bothering to do so, both seemingly engaged in their work.

“I am functioning adequately Captain.” He replied, lowering his own tone. This was not a lie, nor a whole truth. It was his equivalent of Jim’s incessant chant of ‘I’m fine’.

“You know, we’re not exactly busy here. You can head off early if you want. Go meditate or head to the labs. Whatever you need.” Jim’s earnest gaze was enough to distract Spock’s meditation efforts for a week, so his offer was useless. Spock wondered if Uhura had messaged Jim instantly with her concerns, or whether Jim was truly just as observant to his crew as he’d demonstrated to all his subordinates before.

“That is appreciated, Captain. I will depart with your permission.”

“Of course, Spock. Of course. Chess, later?” Then there was that hopeful inflection, like a muted fear that Spock might turn him down. Spock would never. Could never.

“I have matters to attend to for some part of the evening, but I will be free from 2100 hours if that is agreeable?”

“Yeah, I have a mountain of paperwork to do anyway. I’ll see you later then. My quarters."

Spock nodded his agreement and departed, glancing back to his station when he entered the lift to the ensign replacing him quietly. Behind him, Uhura was watching him carefully, still suspicious. Then there was Jim, who was staring pointedly on the back of Chekov’s head. Spock got the impression he was troubling his friends. For two people who, in the past, had both accused him of being devoid of emotion entirely, they were undeniably accurate in their assessments of him now. In this instance, he decided, he was glad to have his friends worrying about him. He did need help.

He ended up not going to the lab, or even to his quarters to meditate. It was one of the most illogical compulsions he’d ever had, but he found himself in need of a trip to engineering. He moved past the crew working there largely unnoticed, ignoring the few pointed glances in his direction, until he reached the decontamination chamber. His mental barriers were secure enough, now, that he could look at that glass panelling and not see Jim lying on the other side, dead. For a while, that had not been the case. Even now, the sight elicited a reaction from him he didn’t think he could process. Fear. Fear of living without Jim, of losing him, which was only going to make the next few weeks harder. If he failed to regain complete control, he would have to remove himself from the situation. He would have to live without Jim, no matter what.

* * *

J I M

The vice on Jim’s heart tightened considerably as he followed Spock into engineering. There was no outward indication of discomfort. Spock stood straight, hands clasped behind his back, gaze fixed on seemingly nothing at all. This was one of only a handful of times Jim had forced himself into engineering; he wasn’t scared, he couldn’t afford to be scared of his own ship, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience either. The look in Spock’s eyes told him his First Officer felt exactly the same. His deep brown eyes, locked onto the very spot their hands once rested. Jim proceeded quietly towards him, ignoring the crew around. They were rightfully minding their own business, apparently, but Jim had no doubt this would be the centre of ship gossip by the evening.

“You told me you were okay.”

“I believe I stated I was functioning adequately, Captain.” Spock replied, drawing his gaze to Jim instantly. Whether Jim had surprised him or not, he couldn’t tell.

“I followed you here.” Jim said, probably needlessly. Spock had probably already worked that out with an exact percentage of certainty. “Do you come often?”

“No.”

Jim frowned. Spock wasn’t exactly emotionally communicative, but that was blunt even for him.

“Spock.” Jim stepped closer. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He knew what he wanted to do, what he always wanted to do, was just hold Spock. Hug him tightly and feel his arms around him, and not let go for a long time. Now that he’d said his name, he truly didn’t know how to proceed. He’d set himself up to fail, really. He wanted to believe that this would be easier in private, away from the prying eyes of their crew, but how to get Spock there? “I never thanked you for coming to me, then. I don’t know whether you noticed. That was pretty lame of me, but I didn’t know how to find the words.” He still didn't, but he thought the whole thing was unnecessary now anyway. 

Spock’s gaze had drifted away again, back to _that_ spot, his lips pressed in a thin line. Not the sort of disapproving line he had when Jim was doing something stupid, or acting like a child, or even when Bones was insulting him. This was the sort of frown like Spock was trying very hard to keep his mouth shut. Whatever was troubling the half-Vulcan, Jim didn’t doubt that Spock was really struggling with it. That terrified him, and only made him want to hug Spock more.

“I can’t believe it was over a year ago, you know.” He admitted quietly. “Spock?”

“We should return to the bridge, Captain.” Spock said suddenly, his tone returned to that professional, rich strength that seemed unwavering. Jim wanted to argue, decline, fight back and force them into some sort of emotional confrontation. Then it occurred to him that there was no point. Anything he’d wished for… he’d come to hope for from Spock, had never happened. After starting their new mission, Spock had taken his place as Jim’s First Officer again, but nothing else. That was his decision. Who was Jim to argue with it. He was a human, and if Spock didn’t want him, then he’d accept that. Only… he’d never asked.

“Of course, Commander.” Jim looked anywhere but his crew, or Spock, as they left engineering. The corridor was empty and depressingly so, as it made his proximity to Spock all the more maddening. They had barely made it a few steps from the door, however, when Spock cleared his throat in a way he must have picked up from his time as a Professor. He wanted attention, and Jim gave it to him instantly.

“I find myself at an impasse, Captain.”

“Oh?”

Spock looked up, tentative as Jim had ever seen him. God, he was beautiful. “As of today I have come to understand the human expression ‘all or nothing’. My feelings for you are no longer avoidable. I am in love with you, and because of that my work and my emotional stability have been compromised. Assuming the nature of my feelings are not returned, I must implore you to transfer me or else compromise the efficiency of the Enterprise.”

Jim swallowed. This wasn't a dream. In his fantasies, Spock had never been so bloody pained to admit that he wanted Jim. But he'd also never admitted he loved him. Jim allowed his eyes to drift across the sharp bones of Spock’s face; the shadows on green and the curve of his lips, just begging to be kissed. He stepped closer, but restrained himself, because god- if he did then he didn’t think he could stop. Spock _loved_ him. Instead, he took Spock’s hand from his side and offered up a Vulcan kiss. That had to mean so much more, surely. It meant he wanted everything Spock had, forever. Bonding, mating, whatever it was. He’d take it. He was rewarded for his efforts too, by the way Spock’s eyes lit suddenly at the gesture. Surprised and tentative still, but hopeful. His own fingers extended and their touches met, and there was no tingling or fireworks. For a moment, he worried he’d done something wrong, but then Spock’s bright eyes brightened further. He looked overjoyed; his shocked face rapidly dissenting into outright, burning emotion.

“Jim.” It was Spock’s turn to randomly say his name without having anything to follow up with. But it conveyed enough, Jim thought.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.” Since he woke up, in fact, after the incident. Not the first time he’d woken, or even the second, but one of them- when Spock was sat beside his bed, asleep or meditating or just resting his eyes. Jim had wanted to take his hand there and then, only Bones had barged in and stopped him. “I love you too, Spock.” He smiled. “I need you to know that I understand what that means. It means just you and me, forever. Okay? Just us.”

“Just us.” Spock reaffirmed. He seemed to be edging closer, holding Jim’s fingers a little tighter, and yet restraining himself. Jim wanted that and more in private; wished to the very core of him that he didn’t have to return to the bridge momentarily.

“Good. I’m all in, Spock. I want everything you can offer me.”

The corners of Spock lips upturned in a smile, so pure and joyous that Jim felt his pulse quicken further. He fought back fantasies of what he wanted to do to that pretty mouth, because that came last. Understanding and love was far more important right now. “Then we have a great deal to discuss.” Spock said quietly.

Jim grinned, with more feeling and purpose behind it than he imagined any other smile from any other person ever had.


End file.
